


sugar and spice, virtue and vice

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: Ladies Bingo 2020 [21]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, F/F, Fade to Black, Impact Play, Light Dom/sub, Sex Toys, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29849574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Ella is curious about dominance. She already knows how it feels to be on the receiving end of it (the answer is pretty damn good – Maze is nothing if not experienced, and practice makes perfect, after all), but she wants to try being the one in charge.Screw virtue. She wants to be vice for a bit.
Relationships: Ella Lopez/Mazikeen
Series: Ladies Bingo 2020 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956031
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Ladies Bingo 2020





	sugar and spice, virtue and vice

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 'virtue and vice' square on my [Ladies Bingo 2020](https://ladiesbingo.dreamwidth.org/) bingo card!

Ella isn’t stupid. 

She knows what people, even those who aren’t aware of the fact that Maze is a demon as opposed to a flesh and blood human, think of them. She knows what people in the precinct think when Maze comes to visit her in the lab, ostensibly to ask her a question (although those visits usually culminate in a makeout session that leaves Ella extremely weak in the knees). She knows what passes through the minds of those they walk by on the street or encounter at Lux (so much as the people at Lux are capable of thinking anything, wasted as they generally are). 

And the thing is, she gets it. She gets why people are so ready to put her and Maze into two extremely defined boxes, why they’re ready to label her as virtue and Maze as vice. But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. While Maze may look tough, and while she’s certainly capable of kicking a tremendous amount of butt, that isn’t the entirety of her personality. While she’s still working on understanding the finer nuances of human socialization and interaction, she’s trying to better herself, each and every day. She’s wonderful with Trixie, and while her attempts at babysitting Charlie are occasionally fraught with catastrophe, she still makes a genuine attempt to help out Linda and Amanadiel when they need it. 

The point is, she is _so_ much more than she looks on the outside. 

And, on the flipside, so is Ella. 

Convincing people to view Maze as a whole person, one who isn’t solely defined by the way she looks and the way she’s quick to pull a knife out of her boot at the first sign of conflict, is one thing. Trying to convince people that Ella isn’t all rainbow and butterflies and cotton candy is another thing entirely. 

She knows that people have a hard time seeing past the way she dresses, the funky t-shirts and the cosplay and the occasional brightly beaded piece of jewelry that she made herself. She knows that, especially for people that she only runs into every so often, her loud laugh and her tendency to revert to cheesy puns during conversation define her. But to people that choose to listen, she’s open about the more checkered parts of her past, about the fact she knows how to pick locks and hotwire cars. For Heaven’s sake, she’s a forensic technician – despite how television tries to make it look clean and easy, it’s a disgusting, painstaking job. Many of her funky t-shirts have been ruined by the smell of death or blood or vomit refusing to wash out, even after multiple trips through the laundry. Her very job itself goes against her reputation as a goody two shoes, but it doesn’t seem to matter. 

Unfortunately, even Maze has a tendency to view her through that narrow frame of reference. Whenever Ella brings up a shadier element of her past, or when she demonstrates one of her less than law-abiding skills while out in the field, Maze always seems a little skeptical, as if she’s sure that Ella will fail and she’ll have to step up to the plate. 

It has also bled into their love life, although Ella is willing to admit that Maze’s skepticism there is a little less misplaced. Sure, Ella wasn’t completely inexperienced when they started hooking up, but that was only when compared to an average person. Compared to Maze, on the other hand, who seems to know the technical name of every imaginable kink and the function of every sex toy in existence, Ella might as well be a complete novice. 

But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to _try_. She wants to have fun! She wants to experiment! She’s curious about leather, about corsets and what it would feel like to be cinched into one. She’s curious about how it would feel to heft a thick wooden paddle into her hands, about how it would sound as she brought it down onto Maze’s ass. She’s curious about what it would feel like to be totally in control, to be in charge of what they get up to.

She’s curious about _dominance_. She already knows how it feels to be on the receiving end of it (the answer is pretty damn good – Maze is nothing if not experienced, and practice makes perfect, after all), but she wants to try being the one in charge. 

Screw virtue. She wants to be vice for a bit. 

Unfortunately, while she’s able to express those thoughts quite coherently in the confines of her own mind, voicing them out loud is another thing entirely. She doesn’t want to bring them up in the middle of sex, doesn’t want to risk throwing off their rhythm, especially when their rhythm is going so well, but when she tries to bring up her desires _outside_ of sex, it’s like running into a roadblock. Maybe it’s the good ol’ Catholic guilt eating away at her even though she has long come to terms with the relationship between her faith and sexuality. Maybe it’s societal pressure that she has internalized. 

Whatever it is, on the few times that she has managed to stammer _something_ out, something like, “I wanna buy a paddle,” Maze hasn’t reacted much one way or the other. She usually just shrugs and says, “Okay, sure.” 

Which isn’t exactly a _negative_ reaction, but it’s also not the ringing endorsement that Ella would like.

And frankly, she’s had enough. Sex with Maze is the furthest thing from unsatisfying, but she knows that it could be even better if she took some initiative, if she decided to act on the fantasies living in her head rather than waiting around for Maze to figure them out herself. 

So, the night before one of their dates, a night that Ella booked off specifically so that they could have some time together (she wrote _**do not call me!**_ on the schedule for that day, and if, for some reason, one of the scheduling sergeants ignores that note and calls her anyway, she’s not going to answer her phone), Ella ducks into one of the stores that her and Maze have visited a few times. She steers past the shelves that normally suck her attention in – the fancy vibrators, the bookshelves with a mixture of erotica, how-to guides, queer theory and memoirs, the dildos that jut up proudly towards the ceiling. Instead, she heads to the back of the store, to their BDSM section, takes a deep, centering breath, and starts perusing the wares, doing her utter best to ignore the burning in her cheeks as she runs her fingertips over smooth, polished wood, shiny leather and slippery satin. In the end, she ends up purchasing a handful of things that she’s had her eye on for some time, a few toys and a new outfit, and while her wallet is certainly stinging from the cost, she has zero regrets. 

Now, she just has to _use_ her purchase. 

It might be the hardest part of the plan so far (although, again, her credit card begs to differ), but she’s nothing if not determined. 

She can do this, damn it. She is Ella freaking Lopez. She is a _badass._

She can do this.

&. 

Maze isn’t supposed to come by until around noon – as good as she is at convincing people to do things, even Maze wasn’t able to convince a judge to let her out of testifying against one of her bounty catches – and Ella doesn’t want to get dressed up too far in advance, doesn’t want to spend hours sweating and ruining all of the effort she’s going to put in. She promises herself that she’ll wait until at least eleven, that waiting until then will still give her more than enough time to shower and wiggle into her outfit.

But she wakes up bright and early with the sunrise, and despite her best efforts to fill in five hours by going for a run and cooking an elaborate breakfast and watching a few episodes of a show that she’s fallen behind on, time still feels like it’s slowed down. She makes it to ten thirty before she bolts from the couch and heads towards the shower, throwing her clothes off as she goes, unable to wait any longer. 

As she goes through the process of getting ready, showers and blow dries her hair and applies a little bit of makeup, some dark red lipstick that she’s worn maybe twice before, some smoky eyeshadow and black eyeliner, as the clock slowly but surely ticks closer to noon, her anxiety manifests in her stomach. She forces herself to take deep, calming breaths, but they only help so much, and eventually, she has to sit down on the bed (which is quite the task, considering the tightness of her outfit) and close her eyes, fingers bunched into her sheets. 

She knows that she doesn’t have to worry about Maze laughing at her, the way another person might if Ella sprang this on them. But while Maze may not laugh at her, there’s always the chance that she isn’t going to be interested. Maybe she’ll look at Ella’s outfit, at the toys she has spread across her bed, and shake her head. 

And of course she’s allowed to say no - Ella would never try to force Maze to do something that she wasn’t interested in. But still, there’s no denying that being rejected would hurt. 

“I can do this,” she whispers, trying to slow her breath, trying to remember every calming word that her therapist has ever said to her, trying to recall the confidence that filled her last night when she brought her purchases to the counter at the sex shop. 

Just as she thinks she’s on the right track, she hears the click of Maze’s key turning in her front door, and her anxiety shoots back through the roof. 

Still, it’s game time, and maybe if she pretends that she’s confident, if she pretends that she knows what she’s doing, she’ll actually _feel_ confident. Fake it ‘til you make it, and all that. 

So she hops off the bed, black leather mini-dress sticking unpleasantly to her in a few spots (nothing that a few quick tugs can’t solve, thankfully) and picks up the wooden paddle resting on the bed. She leans back against the wall directly opposite the bedroom door, so she’ll be the first thing Maze sees when she walks in. 

“Ella?” Maze calls out in the kitchen. Her voice is followed by a heavy thud, presumably as she drops her bag, which definitely has at least two weapons in it, onto Ella’s counter. “You home?” 

“In here!” Ella calls back. Amazingly, her voice only wavers slightly. Smoothing her dress down the front of her body so that there are no weird folds or bumps, she rests the flat part of the heavy paddle in one palm and clutches the handle tightly in the other. 

“You should have seen this guy,” Maze says as her footsteps come down the hallway. “Thought he was going to start crying when he saw me walk into the courtroom.” A few seconds later, she pushes open the door, and while her mouth is parted slightly, no further words cross her lips. Instead, her eyes widen, and she pauses in the entranceway, still holding onto the door with one hand. 

“Hi,” Ella says, trying to curve the word as sensually as she can. She’s not as successful as she hoped, but she tries to move past it. “I… um…” 

Oh no. She’s screwing this up. She had a script planned out in her head, something to guide her through the initial parts of this conversation, but now that she’s actually in the situation, every last line of her script sounds like she pulled it from an overproduced porno. If she tries to forge ahead, she’s going to start wincing at herself, and that’s _definitely_ going to kill the mood. 

But she has to say _something_ if she wants to have any chances of salvaging the situation. 

Thankfully, before she can blurt out something truly embarrassing, Maze walks into the room. Her parted lips have curled up into a smile, one that makes heat spark in Ella’s stomach as she tightens her fingers on the paddle. 

“You weren’t kidding,” Maze says, continuing to walk forward until she’s a few inches away from Ella. “About wanting a paddle, I mean.” 

“I wasn’t,” Ella confirms. An idea strikes her, and yes, this is also something she’s copying, this time from the cover of one of the BDSM erotica books at the sex shop, but she can always figure out her own original techniques later. Raising the paddle, she tucks the flat end of it underneath Maze’s chin and pushes gently, until Maze is forced to tilt her head back. Abruptly, grin widening into something feral and sharp, Maze drops to her knees, looking up at Ella through her dark eyelashes. After taking a deep breath to get herself back on track, Ella continues, “I’m kind of disappointed that you thought I was joking.” There’s a hint of truth behind it, but she does her best to lower her voice so that she doesn’t come across as upset. Based on how Maze’s eyes widen a little bit more, on how her head tilts back a few more degrees, the effect works. 

“I’m so sorry,” Maze replies, her voice a deep purr that hits Ella directly between the legs. “What can I do to make it up to you?” 

Ella swallows heavily and increases the pressure behind the paddle. Truth be told, she’s in uncharted waters here. She’s not sure how she wants to proceed; all she knows is that she definitely _wants_ to keep this going. 

“You can get on the bed,” she eventually says, pulling the paddle away from Maze’s chin and waving it over towards the bed, where she has metal handcuffs and a bright red dildo lined up on the blanket. Maze does as she’s asked, sliding up the bed so that she’s on her hands and knees. Once she’s gotten herself settled, she fiddles with the handcuffs, clinking them together. 

“Are these for me too?” she asks, glancing back over her shoulder. It’s one hell of a sight, and it’s all Ella can do to remain on her feet and in character, rather than lunge towards the bed and tangle herself up with Maze. Instead, she approaches the mattress and gives Maze a gentle warning tap on her upper thigh. The sound of the wood against her skin, while slightly muffled because of her tight black jeans, still makes a delighted shudder go down Ella’s spine. 

“Maybe," she replies. "If you’re good.” 

Maze groans and lowers down to her forearms, so that her back is arched and her hips are pressed up into the air. She’s definitely doing it to tease Ella, and it is _so_ tempting to give in, but Ella forces herself to remain where she is, even when Maze says, “I’ll be good. I promise.” 

Vision blacking out slightly, Ella says, “We’ll see about that,” and flicks her wrist, smacking the paddle against Maze’s ass. It connects with a crisp snap, and Maze inhales sharply. 

Resisting the urge to delve her fingers below the hem of her dress and between her legs, Ella hits her again. This time, Maze _moans._

Ella doesn’t want to change her personality completely. She doesn’t want to lose her softness, her kindness, her laughter, her goofy shirts and her hopefulness. But, she realizes as she brings the paddle down again and Maze tosses her head back with a gasp, she can keep all of those things _and_ be a little mean, even if it’s only under certain circumstances. 

And, as she continues to swing the paddle, relishing in every one of Maze’s exclamations, she discovers that switching their roles, being the vice to Maze’s virtue, completely saying _screw you_ to every expectation people have of them, is even more fun than she anticipated.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
